


Hail to the King

by RomanTheSkeleton



Category: The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Genre: F/M, Halloween, Jack Needs a Hug, Other, Witch Hunts, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanTheSkeleton/pseuds/RomanTheSkeleton
Summary: Jonathan McLeod is put to death after being accused of witchcraft, but when he awakens, he finds that the new life he's been given is far better than the first.
Relationships: Sally/Jack Skellington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

"Jonathan McLeod, thou hath been found guilty of the devil's works," the Magistrate announced loudly before the village. 

The men and women that Jonathan had known all of his life glared at him, accusing him. The flames of their torches turned them all into hideous ghouls, contorting their hateful stares into jeers. He trembled beneath the weight of it all. 

"The penalty for such atrocities is death. Thou shalt imbibe poison, have thou mouth sewn shut, and be buried beneath the soil."

Jonathan swallowed hard. "Magistrate, I beseech thee! I have committed nay such wickedness as hath been raised claim against me."

"Thou wouldst deny thy accuser?" The Magistrate snarled.

"I-I would," he stammered.

The Magistrate turned away and waved someone forward. Susannah, the girl with whom Jonathan had intended to spend his life walked forward. He felt his stomach turn to stones.

"Susannah, Jonathan hath claimed thou hath spake with a forked tongue. What say thee?"

The girl covered her face with her hands, sobbing dramatically. "He lies, Magistrate! He hath tried to bewitch me to surrender my maidenhead! I feared for my life and fled to the safety of Seamus' farmhouse! He shall speak for me!"

Jonathan felt bile boil up into his throat. The woman he loved has betrayed him for another. He would die all for a lie. Tears pooled in his eyes. 

"What say thee, Jonathan?"

"Wilt thou believe what I tell thee? The treacherous snake hath already struck! I am already a dead man. May the devil take thee all," he hissed, overwhelmed by his misery.

A shocked gasp spread through the crowd as his sentence was ordered to be carried out. Without word or struggle, Jonathan met his grizzly end, force-fed a deadly toxin and buried alive. As the poison set in and the oxygen ran out, he spiraled gently into darkness, soaked in his own tears.


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan opened his eyes.

His body was stiff and it ached from disuse. Had it all been some horrible dream? Instinctively, he yawned and stretched in the darkness, but the wide threads holding his mouth closed pulled tight and his fingers tapped against the hard wood of his coffin. Terror set in, filling him with dread. How was he still alive? Had the poison not worked? Jonathan pounded frantically on the lid, for no bell had been tied to his finger. Would anyone save him if they heard or would they really allow him to suffocate in this small, wooden box? 

As his hope began to dwindle, the lid of his prison creaked and moaned, fighting to cling to the nails that held it closed. He could hear voices on the outside, but none he recognized. Relief washed over him as the pale sunlight washed into his vision, blinding him.

"Slow down, my boy," a cheerful, booming voice insisted. "You've only just woken up and it can be a little disorienting!"

Jonathan rubbed at his eyes, but something felt...wrong. Slowly opening them, nausea overwhelmed him. The stark white of his finger bones hovered before his eyes. Jonathan tried to scream, but only a muffled whimper escaped. He patted himself down, digging in his blouse. Nothing but bone remained. A small, firm hand clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"Take a breather. It's alright! You're safe, now."

Jonathan's "eyes" drifted up to the man. ("How can I see?" He wondered.) The man was short and portly, his head long and pointed at the top, covered by an absurdly large stovepipe hat. A big, bright smile framed his face, brightening his already bright pink cheeks. ("Makeup, most likely," Jonathan thought.) His clothing was strange, not including the large spider at the neck.

When he stared a bit too long, the man's head spun before his eyes, revealing a nervous pale face, its teeth sharp in its worried frown. "What's wrong? Is there something on my face?"

Jonathan's vision spiraled and wavered in front of him as two more monstrosities wandered toward him. Before he blacked out, he was almost positive one of them was an enormous, bipedal wolf. "Surely not," he thought and then he fainted.


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathan's visions came swimming back into focus. The same plump man from before and a pasty old man with a large, bald head looked down on him. He could tell they were talking about him, but he couldn't get a grasp on what they were saying.

"...the boy?" the old man asked.

The smiling, chubby man nodded. "He was buried in our cemetery. The poor child seems to be a victim of the witch trials."

The old man shook his head and moved out of view, a strange humming sound following him. When he returned, he held a sharp blade in his hand. Jonathan, who had been faking unconsciousness, lept up and tried to escape. His back thumped hard against a wall, stunning him. His mind was drowning him in fear. What WERE these horrid creatures?!

The old man tilted his head and pursed his lips, opening the top of his skull to scratch his brain. Jonathan felt sick.

"Young man," the brain...creature said with an exasperated sigh, "would you like those threads cut or not?"

Jonathan's hands drifted to his mouth, carefully tracing the bindings on his mouth. Still trembling, he nodded. The old man grunted and drove his strange, meddle contraption forward. With surgical precision, the man clipped the threads.

"I won't be able to remove them completely. Sadly, they've fused with your skull, but at least you can speak, now." The old man sat down the knife. "My name is Dr. Finklestein and you are?"

"J-Jonathan," he stammered. "I am called Jonathan."

"Well, it's a ple-!"

The plump man pushed forward. "And I'm the Mayor! Welcome to Halloweentown!"

"Halloween...town?" Jonathan asked, softly.

"Yes," Finklestein grunted, pushing the Mayor out of the way. "It's the Halloween that evolved from your Samhain."

Jonathan's heart sank. "'Tis Hell?"

The Mayor and the doctor glanced at one another and then laughed. Finklestein patted his hand.

"Not hardly, my boy. Here! You're in desperate need of new clothes. Follow me."

The two men wandered away to a large, spiraling incline. Jonathan followed, the fear gnawing at his spine. They seemed kind, but they were so strange. Was he really dead? For how long?

When they reached the top, Finklestein stopped at a large, round, metal door. "This is my ward's room. She's a talented seamstress and will be able to get you in some clothing suited to your new life."

"After that, we'll find you a home," The Mayor announced, cheerily.

Finklestein opened the door with some effort. Inside a young woman leaned out the window, staring out into the night. Startled by the intrusion, she spun around.

"What were you doing?" Finklestein asked, suspiciously.

"Just looking at the stars," the girl cooed, her voice chirping with exaggerated innocence.

The doctor's eyes narrow. "Hmm, yes. Sally, this is Jonathan. He needs a new wardrobe and I figured you might be interested in assisting him."

She turned to look at Jonathan and smiled, gently. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned to look at her. She was stunning, all things considered. The only thing that caught him off guard about her was the delicate stitching that covered her visible, pale skin. When she noticed him staring, her charmingly lopsided smile broadened, nervously, and she pushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear.

"Is...something wrong?" She asked, quietly.

Feeling like a fool, he shook his head. "No, forgive me. 'Tis been a while since I saw a lady so lovely." He bowed awkwardly, making her laugh. Her laugh was as sweet as Autumn, itself.

"You're so formal," she grinned.

"Is that bad?" He asked.

Finklestein cleared his throat. "What my rude, little Sally is trying to say, Jonathan, is you've been asleep for quite a while. Perhaps, she can help you with that, as well. Bring you up to speed, as it were."

Sally glowered at the doctor and then turned back to Jonathan. "Would you like that?"

"Aye, I would," he said, smiling.

"Good," the Mayor blustered. "I have some things to talk to the good doctor about. You two get acquainted and come find me when you're done, my boy!"

After the two older men had left, Sally glanced at him, sheepishly. "I hope I didn't offend you."

"Nay, you did not," he said, smiling. "Any help is welcome."

With a nod, she approached him and started to take his measurements. "How did you die, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I was...accused of witchcraft," he said, subdued. "My village poisoned me...buried me alive."

"That's horrible," she cried. "Witchcraft isn't even bad. People in the old days were so, so...I'm so sorry, Jonathan."

He nodded. "Thank ye."

"You know what? You want to be...a little more modern, right?"

"I suppose," he agreed, apprehensively.

"Jonathan is a little stuffy. Now, that you're in Halloweentown, why don't we call you...?" She got quiet for a moment and then her eyes lit up. "What do you think of 'Jack'?"

"Jack?"

"Yes," she grinned. "Jack is short for Jonathan and it'll remind people of jack o' lanterns."

He pondered on it. "Jack."

Suddenly, Sally started giggling. Jack turned and looked at her as she walked away and pulled out a pad and paper, her pencil moving deftly over the parchment. When she was finished, she turned the picture to Jonathan. An image of him as a skeleton stood proudly, jack o' lantern in hand. A stylish black suit draped deftly over him, its long, bat-like coattail drifting in the non-existent wind. A bow tie shaped like the familiar nocturnal flier adorned his throat.

"Jack Skellington," Sally announced, proudly, still giggling.

Jonathan strolled over and carefully took the portrait from him. "Oh, Sally. I love it."

Her eyes brightened. "You do?"

"Aye, I do. So you have called me, so I shall be called. From henceforth, I am known as Jack Skellington."


End file.
